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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29580369">Brightly Wound</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaloon/pseuds/spaloon'>spaloon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Raggedy Ann &amp; Andy - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ann has self image issues . just a leetle bit, F/F, andy misogyny moments &lt;3, little doll pining, phonetically typed french accent, sibling on sibling fantasy violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:54:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29580369</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaloon/pseuds/spaloon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ann, trapped in Marcella’s arms and trapped with her own thoughts, reflects on her feelings.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Raggedy Ann/Babette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Brightly Wound</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> She was in love with Babette.</p><p> It was a fact that had clicked in her cotton stuffed head that night, during bedtime, as Marcella tucked her in next to her and drifted off to sleep. Those dark hours where the rising moon gleamed through the curtains and all she could do was <em> think, think, think </em> without moving, trapped under her child's arms. She never hated that lot in life (it wasn't often that Marcella needed her, and she was happy to bring comfort in the dark, of course, of <em> course) </em> but it always seemed to be the nights when her mind raced the most, combing through each and every activity of the day, and days before, months and sometimes even years, when she still remembered them. Eyes wide to the dark, high ceiling, with no one to voice her troubles to. <em> That </em> was what she hated. </p><p> Or… Hate was a strong word, wasn't it? She shouldn't say that. </p><p>  She had a strong dislike for it. For only being able to think about what was <em> wrong </em> when she was stuck in this moment, without even Andy to put a comforting hand to the small of her stitched back while she tried, wobbly-voiced and in vain, to explain what was going on in her head. He never quite understood, but he tried- and she wished more than anything to have that now instead of <em> this</em>, suffocating in the dark. </p><p> Suffocating with what she'd just realized, now that she was forced to reflect on it.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> Earlier that day Marcella had been playing with them in the living room. This was normal, usually, on days where she didn't go to school and was free to drag her other toys about the house. For today it was Ann (this was a constant, always,) her brother, Andy, and Marcella's newest dolls, the Camel and sweet Babette, who she was still quite enamored with and so was intent on including in as much play time as possible. If she'd had it her way she would have brought the entire nursery down with them, of course, but that was too much of a mess.</p><p> The game she was playing… It was a classic game of pretend, Ann remembered, some vague thing to do with Knights and a Princess and a 'scary dragon' who had held her captive. Marcella tended to base her own made up stories off of those she'd been read, and was currently riding the high of her shelves worth of fantasy books, so it stood to reason that it would blend into their own games. </p><p> Ann was fine with this, though she found some of the stories a little bit grim. Marcella was very creative, after all, and the games were never boring. And she could tell from the glint in his little button eyes that Andy was thankful to be a part of something that wasn't another <em> tea party. </em>A dragon, that was much more up his alley. The camel was always just happy to be included.</p><p> Babette, on the other hand, had stood stiffly upright and polite, still getting used to the concept of play, <em> still </em> not used to being tossed about like any other toy. Ann knew she was warming up to them all nicely, though. She'd already come very far from when she'd first arrived. Maybe it didn't show so obviously in her words, but she wasn't good at hiding the glowing smile on her face when the day was done. </p><p> Marcella had given them all their roles with the highest air of importance, as if she was the head director of a play and they were but actors; which Ann supposed, in some way, they were. For her character, she was given the illustrious title of the King’s knight (as always she was the lead, something Andy liked to tease her for,) and a silly little aluminum foil hat that Marcella dubbed her ‘helmet’, to protect her from danger. The camel, because he fit the part so well, was her trusty steed. Andy played the dragon, which she was sure he must have gotten great joy from. He’d always wanted to be something a little more beastly and ferocious, though as hard as Marcella tried to make him that way with felt taped fangs and wings it was hard to see it past his kind, painted smile. </p><p> And Babette... Well, she was the princess, of course, which was <em> more </em> than fitting for her, Ann thought. From the way she conducted herself to her delicate porcelain features and many many bows and ruffles and ribbons, and her soft (still-curled, against all odds) hair that gleamed gold against the sun shining through the slats in the blinds- yes. Princess seemed to be the right fit for her. She hardly even needed a crown.</p><p> In line with the story, it was Ann's purpose as a knight to brave the dragon and save the princess, which Marcella acted out with as much ease as an easily distracted seven year old possibly could. With the camel she rode clumsily across the living room floor, an old butter knife from the kitchen taped gallantly to her mitten fist, every action narrated loudly for the other inhabitants of the house to hear. Andy had been slouched over the cardboard box castle protectively, a mischievous gleam in his shoebutton eyes. If Ann hadn’t known better, she would have thought she’d heard him growl, as Marcella pantomimed him flying high above them, imaginary fire flying from his mouth. </p><p><em>  “Don’t worry, Princess Babette, I’ll rescue you from this big scary beast!” </em> ‘Ann’ had cried, charging towards the castle. There had been a fight, what Ann was sure was a rancorous battle of teeth and claws and swords in Marcella’s mind, as she gently bapped her butter knife against Andy’s face. Much too violent for her tastes, even if it wasn't real; she wasn't even given the chance to be <em> civil. </em> She hadn’t wanted to best her brother in bloody combat, but rules were rules. </p><p> With the ‘Dragon’ defeated, all that had been left was the princess, trapped under her cardboard castle prison. </p><p>
  <em>  “Oh, kind and wonderful knight, you saved me!”  </em>
</p><p> This was where Ann’s mind had wandered as Marcella propped them against each other, clasping their hands tightly, awkwardly. Babette’s big, blue eyes stared into hers as Marcella gave some sort of thankful speech on her behalf. If Ann hadn’t been made of cotton, she might have felt her little mitts get clammy against Babette’s cold ceramic fingers. It had been hard to register what Marcella was saying that moment, for reasons Ann hadn’t understood, even as she tipped their heads closer together, almost as if-</p><p> “Marcella!” Came her Mother’s voice from the kitchen, “It’s time for lunch!” </p><p> Marcella paused, a pout already forming on her lips. “Oh, but momma, I’m busy! Just five more minutes-" </p><p> “<em>Now</em>, please.” The voice was firm and unwavering, enough to make Marcella huff and throw her head back.</p><p> “<em>Okay</em>, I’m coming…”</p><p> Babette was unceremoniously tossed on top of Ann with a soft thud, her porcelain face safely caught against a cloth shoulder. </p><p><em>  Marcella really ought to be more careful, </em> was Ann's first thought at the time. She didn't know much about fancy dolls, but they were so fragile, they certainly couldn't be bounced around like she could. Thank goodness she'd been there to catch her, as always.</p><p> They would be stuck there for some time, perhaps about an hour, on the cold wooden floor of the living room. Though there was no one around, Ann knew it wasn't safe to move an inch. Not there in the living room, where the sound of footsteps were a constant around them, and at any moment they could be spotted. So there the four of them laid, stock still, waiting to be collected again.</p><p> Truthfully, though, (and Ann knew even at the time that this thought was selfish) she didn't mind it for even a second. The weight atop her wasn't a bother, and in fact, was almost comforting; if anything, she felt more sorry for <em> Babette </em>, because she was sure her lumpy old cotton body left much to be desired in that respect. Gold curls splayed loosely around her face, obscuring everything else from view, so all Ann could do was stare. The angle she'd fell in had shifted Babette's glass eyes closed, almost as if she were sleeping. And perhaps she was after all that waiting, though there was really no way to tell. Ann had hoped she was. She was almost afraid she'd have been able to feel the thumping of her candy heart through the thin fabric of her chest, if not.</p><p> When they were finally, mercifully collected from the ground it wasn’t by Marcella, but her mother, who tutted under her breath as she dragged the four of them up to the nursery. Only once the door clicked shut behind her, and the sound of her footsteps on the stairway faded, were the toys able to stretch themselves back out and find respite. The other dolls who’d been left behind quickly crowded around them, eager to learn what they’d missed.</p><p> "We played pretend all morning," Ann informed them with a smile, having quickly swallowed down any leftover shakiness, "Marcella dressed us up in costumes and everything!" </p><p> Topsy, tucking her lanky hands under her chin, flopped over onto the ground in a neat circle around Susie and the penny twins. “What was the story about?” </p><p> Settling down on a small stool, Ann took it upon herself to placate the others with the events of the day so her friends could take their time removing their costumes. “Oh, it was incredible! I was a knight of the king's guard, on a perilous quest to save Princess Babette from a <em> ferocious </em>dragon.”</p><p><em>  "Yours truly," </em> Andy proudly proclaimed, jabbing a thumb to his chest. He was still donning his wings and teeth, puffing himself up when the dolls around him gasped. </p><p>  “That’s right,” Ann nodded, happy to gas him up for once, since he was clearly so pleased with himself. Miming wings when she lifted her arms, she stood high atop her stool, only barely managing to keep steady. It was imperative that she put on a show for them, seeing as how they never got to see much outside the nursery. “Shooting all kinds of red hot fireballs at me and the camel, my <em> noble steed </em>, as we galloped to the castle!” </p><p> The camel shyly put his hooves to his face. "Aw, shucks, her noble steed! Y'hear that? I was a <em> steed!" </em> </p><p> "Yeah, yeah, I guess that's cool too," replied Andy dismissively, waving him away. "But uh, not to toot my own horn or anything, but I killed it out there. And speaking of killed, Annie, I can’t believe you <em> slayed </em>me, your own dear, sweet brother!” </p><p> Ann snorted, shaking her head. “Sorry, Andrew, but you kidnapped a princess!” </p><p> "As if it wasn't anything she hasn't gone through <em> before</em>," he snarked back, hands on his hips. Which was true- and the captain had certainly gotten away with it with much less of a hassle.</p><p> “<em>Oui</em>, and she stabbed ze brute right through ze heart,” Babette (who had been busy straightening her ruffled petticoats and tangled curls) hummed, and leaned over to pluck a piece of lint from the back of Ann's head; then, idly, began fixing her errant yarny hair. "It all seemed rathar <em> barbaric</em>, personally."</p><p> She'd been doing this a few times now- what Ann had assumed at the time was a sign of her becoming more comfortable with them all- straightening her clothes or her hair for her when they were out of place, wiping away any dirt on her cheeks. Ann never really thought it more than a friendly gesture before. Now, thinking back on it, it wasn't really something she saw Babette do with anyone else but her.</p><p> She'd opened her mouth to say something- but the touch had distracted her, and she'd faltered, forgetting what it was. </p><p> "Bet you'd be lying if you said you didn't think about <em> slaying </em> the captain a few times, though," Countered Andy instead, thankfully. Babette chuckled in a way that made it obvious she was hiding a fit of laughter in order to look polite. </p><p> "Maybe so." </p><p> Grandpa, leaning forward in his chair, gestured at Ann to continue her story. "Well come on now, don't leave us in suspense! You slayed the dragon, and…?" </p><p> It had taken a moment for Ann to regain her composure, swallowing the cotton in her throat thickly. “R-right! After... After I’d defeated the dragon with my mighty sword,” She raised her fist in the air, where she would be holding a sword, if she’d still had one, “I marched up to the castle doors and, uh... I saved the princess!" </p><p>  <em> "And then what'd ya do? What'd ya do, what’d ya do, dear Raggedy? Waaaooo!" </em>Came the twin penny's chorous'd question. </p><p> Ann's arms fell to her sides. "Well, then Marcella had to go to lunch, so…"</p><p> "So she left us on ze cold floor for <em> hours</em>," huffed Babette. As Ann had assumed, she hadn't been a fan.</p><p> "So I don't really know! It ended on a… a cliff hanger." </p><p> "They hung you from a cliff?" gasped Topsy. </p><p> "No, silly," Ann clarified, "a cliff hanger is when an ending leaves you in suspense." </p><p> "Oh…" </p><p> Andy, now slouched against a rocking chair that had been tipped on its side, rolled his eyes. "That wasn't a cliffhanger, Annie! Everyone <em> knows </em>how these fairytale stories go. It'll probably have some boring mushy gushy ending." </p><p> The toys looked around at each other, muttering among themselves about what that could possibly entail. </p><p> "Well, tell us zen, mistar beeg brain, how will it end?" Asked Babette, arms crossed, finally satisfied with the new little bow she'd tied in Ann's hair. </p><p> "Yeah, how's it gonna end?" Echoed the Camel. It followed with a chorus of the same question by the other dolls, all staring at Andy, eager to hear how it was 'supposed' to end. </p><p> Ann shifted nervously on her feet- the only one who'd fallen quiet. She was just as anxious as the others to find out. Of course, it wasn't that she didn't know what he was going to say; she'd been present for more storytimes than Andy had ever been. He was right, that in books they'd all ended the same way. But Marcella wouldn't have… <em> Would she? </em></p><p> "Ugh," Andy groaned, clearly displeased with the notion of speaking it into existence. "It's gonna end just like every silly fairy tale does. The knight, or prince charming, or some suave adventurer saves the helpless broad, kills the beast or breaks a curse or <em> whatever else </em> and they have some sappy true love's kiss and get married!" </p><p> That was when the thought had planted itself into Ann's mind and refused to leave, made her think about it the entire day. When Marcella was giving her speech, when she was tipping their heads together- Ann was so distracted she hadn't even realized- it was going to be a <em> kiss </em>. Maybe it was only pretend, just a made up story they would have forgotten about by the day's end, but as Ann stood there between the small crowd of happily chattering toys it felt very, very real. Real enough to make her candy heart hammer even harder in her chest than it had before.</p><p> "Aw, well, I think that sounds real nice," Tospy had said, a silly smile curled on her face. There was a happy agreement from the others, who seemed quite pleased with that idea.</p><p> "But weddings are so boring!" Andy cried, throwing his arms up and jostling his wings enough that they fell to the floor in a heap. "Just a bunch of fancy outfits and food- If I ever get married, it'll be <em> way </em> more exciting, mark my words-" </p><p>  "Well, zen I think I'm thankful that between the two of you it's <em> Ann </em>zat I marry," interjected Babette, leaning against Ann just so, that it made the painted blush of her cheeks burn. </p><p><em>  She’s thankful, </em> thought Ann, mind swirling with implications, <em> to marry me? </em>   </p><p> "Hey, <em> likewise</em>, sister." </p><p> Fists balled into her loose, threadbare apron, she stared down at her shoes.</p><p> "Do you think Marcella would really do that?" All the other toys looked at her- some unsure of what she said, it was so soft. "Have the- the knight marry the princess?" </p><p> "Huh?" Andy, bless what would have been his heart if he had one, tilted his head in confusion. She could already tell that the question- or at least, what she'd meant by it- didn't quite make sense to him. But that was okay. Ann had already wished she hadn't said it outloud.  "I mean, probably. Don’t they always marry the princess? And have a happily ever after, and all that gross junk?” </p><p> “Happy ever after,” echoed Ann, her mind lost in the thought.  </p><p> And that was where the trouble had started.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> Well, if Ann was being completely honest with herself now, staring at the spackled old ceiling of Marcella’s bedroom, the trouble had started when Babette had been brought into the playroom in the first place. Even when she'd first met her there'd been this feeling gnawing inside, worse than moths on clothes when you're left in the closet, that she just couldn't explain at first. Some digging need to make her smile, to make her happy. To make her <em> like </em>her. Well, she certainly had a word for it now.</p><p> It wasn't as if Ann had never had crushes before, not at all. There'd been others that had snagged her easily swayed heart, pretty dolls owned by neighbors, or kind toys that she'd meet while out with Marcella. They'd all been quite beautiful, but it was fleeting, and Ann had never had the chance to get to know them quite as closely as she'd liked to. Of course, none of them had made Ann's heart ache as much as Babette did, so unlike the others in her own little funny way, all bold and snappy and courageous. And, also unlike them, she was there to stay whether she'd wanted to or not, and Ann had to feel that nagging little feeling every day when she saw her. </p><p> Though Ann sincerely hoped she wanted to stay now, even beyond those selfish feelings. She'd hoped that she could make this a place worth loving, even if it wasn't Paris, even if she was just a silly, plain little rag doll and not some brave, handsome knight that could sweep Babette off her feet. That was all Ann could ask for. Because as nice as it sounded to be one, as much as Marcella tried to make it seem in her little pretend games, a brave and handsome knight was not what she was on the outside. And it wasn't silly little rag dolls who got happily ever afters. </p><p> It kept her up at night, that awful little thought, up until she couldn't take it anymore, and her cotton body gave in to exhaustion. </p><p>
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